Above the fray.

A small fee – once it was free – and you sit where you want.

We had always thought park benches were open to all and reservations were unnecessary.

Perhaps wires were crossed – an old metaphor from early telephone switchboards and amateur electricians – and we could have sat next to Mr. & Mrs. Jones?

We will not wait for the answer. Anyway, we heard someone say “times change”.

That, must be it.

Menthol streams of fresh wishes with a mint twist.

An airline like this must be something completely new.

And it was. Seats that seemed comfortable, at least for the first hour or so.

Room to stand and mill, chat with fellow flyers, trade travel tales, life advice, and origin traditions.

Everything, the brochure said, is possible.

Rounded corners.

No sharp edges. Gentle introductions and soft goodbyes.

Trading swimsuits for robes of head-to-toe silk and gold thread.

Testing the fires of ice and the sound levels of anechoic chambers.

One word changed silence into longlived prosperity and health.

Sparkling rewards like cool water on overheated skin

Drawing cotton wool from the opposition.

There is no opposing side.

There are dissenters, other-thinkers, not-yet-convinced, and the ones who think otherwise.

So sayeth the soothsayer and optimistically inclined magician.

It won’t be long before everyone has jovial arguments and joyous disagreements.

Again.

Strike a match, an old idea in some places, light the candles, and see the flickering illumination of smiles and shy reductions.

We will appoint everyone a founder of Friends of the First Moment We Met.

Then there is a long stretch of flat, polished land we all glide across and arrive at the foot of friendly mountains.

The mountain lion is always amused.